


Devil Has All The Best Tunes

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Valhalla
Genre: Attempted Murder, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hallucinations, M/M, Poisoning, Sick Character, Sickfic, Visions in dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Gods strike him down, Eivor cursed under his breath as he buried his blade into the tender flesh of the deceitful bard. His vision blurred in muted tones as the last words of the bard were washed out in a roar of noise like a thunderous waterfall as his heart pounded within his chest like horses' hooves shattering the earth with their war pace. His head throbbed with sharp pain as the bright light of day blinded him.Barely shaking the blood from his axe as he dragged himself into the saddle. Clinging to her neck, he directed her on the path home. With Synin as her guide above, Passelande trampled the earth in a fit, storming back to the friendlier terrain of Ravensthorpe. The ground was a blur in passing, only worsening the nauseous roll of his stomach as he was jostled and jerked along the path.Eivor wasn't certain rather to be grateful or not as consciousness evaded him, slipping away into brief states of a death like sleep. Midday turned to nightfall when a voice familiar to the ears but far beyond his thoughts to register who exactly it was speaking, shouted his name in alarm.(This fic has slight Devil Has All The Best Tunes blue node mission spoilers)
Relationships: Eivor/Tarben (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	Devil Has All The Best Tunes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic for this fandom and this ship which I am enjoying very much and will write more about soon. I have some cute Yuletide fic ideas stowed away to write soon thanks to the new season update. So keep an eye out. 
> 
> Eivor/Tarben or as a few friends of mine have now dubbed the ship Eivben for the pun potential of the moniker, is my new favorite ship in this fandom. 
> 
> If you liked this fic, please leave comments and kudos below to let me know what you think!
> 
> If you're a fan of the games and/or a content creator, be sure to join the AC Valhalla fan discord!
> 
> https://discord.gg/QhZgdacNZ4

Gods strike him down, Eivor cursed under his breath as he buried his blade into the tender flesh of the deceitful bard. His vision blurred in muted tones as the last words of the bard were washed out in a roar of noise like a thunderous waterfall as his heart pounded within his chest like horses' hooves shattering the earth with their war pace. His head throbbed with sharp pain as the bright light of day blinded him.

He whistled for Passelande who rushed to his side, barely shaking the blood from his axe as he dragged himself into the saddle. Clinging to her neck, he directed her on the path home. With Synin as her guide above, Passelande trampled the earth in a fit, storming back to the friendlier terrain of Ravensthorpe. The ground was a blur in passing, only worsening the nauseous roll of his stomach as he was jostled and jerked along the path. 

Eivor wasn't certain rather to be grateful or not as consciousness evaded him, slipping away into brief states of a death like sleep. Midday turned to nightfall when a voice familiar to the ears but far beyond his thoughts to register who exactly it was speaking, shouted his name in alarm. Maybe it was Rowan? Or Petra? Or maybe even one of the other vikingrs that called Ravensthorpe home.

Strong arms swiftly drew him off of his saddle, a flurry of words rattled around in his head, a fitful attempt to understand was fleeting before he submitted to the ravenous blur and the overwhelming need to empty his stomach.

"I think he's going to be sick." Someone blurted quickly, seconds before Eivor gave into the urge, his stomach heaving all of the contents onto the earth. At least he hoped so. Judging by the cursing in his ears, he may have missed or mistook the direction of his impromptu projectile.

He felt himself being pulled into one direction before the sensation of falling caused him to jerk in a sudden panic. "Easy now, Eivor." A voice spoke gently by his side as hands tugged on his armor in an attempt to remove his equipment. He dared a peek through sleep heavy eyes and groaned. He was sitting upright, the bare skin of his torso damp with sweat as he was propped up in front of a hearth, the crackling flames made intimidating shadows dance around him as his head lolled to one side. Bodies moved in brisk motions around the room, a myriad of unfamiliar boots in familiar clan colors passing by. Someone had propped him up against a wall as a pelt was strewn across his lap.

He recognized the painted face of the seer Valka, as her slender figure crouched by his side and pressed a bowl of cold liquid to his lips. "Drink Eivor." She urged. "Drink it all up. It will be unpleasant but you must keep it down. It will purge the poison from your body."

He didn't like the sound of that. The bitterness of its scent was pungent enough on its own. Remorsefully, he sucked it up and let her pour the vile concoction down his throat. The urge to throw it back up was a constant desire as he moaned pitifully and slumped against the wall when it was finished. Be it seconds or minutes, Valka had returned with another bowl pressed to his lips. He shook his head in a plea of refusal, fearful that he could not handle anymore when she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Do not fear, Eivor, it is merely water. Come, drink." She urged with a gentle nudge to his lips. He hadn't the strength to lift his head any further but what little she could coax into him helped ease the bitter burning in his throat like he had swallowed the sun itself in a futile gesture towards the great wolf.

Time ticked by slowly, as heavy eyelids slipped shut. He woke in brief fitful moments of wakefulness at the tender touch of caring hands placing cool damp rags against his feverish skin. His fingers fisted into the blankets weakly, noting rather suddenly that he was now lying in his own bed in the longhouse. Unable to recall when such a change had happened, he could barely string a thought more together before sleep stole him away once more, like a cold dive into a frozen lake, he was seized by the sneaking tendrils that lashed at his body and kept him imprisoned in place.

He felt the terrifying collision as memories blurred with sleep fueled visions, unable to tell truth from lies. He remembered Sigurd's presence, a hand at his side as his brother spoke to him, confident in his optimism that Eivor will pull through but then his touch grew distant, his voice distorted as if through a veil of water. Wing beats frantically filled his ears as the longhouse was cast in cold unforgiving shadows. Eivor grasped at the blankets for warmth but even their aid was denied to him as a figure darkened the doorway. A large looming shadow, sculpted in muscle and striking like a blade through numerous dreams and nightmares as the broadly built man stepped forward with a wicked sneer.

Kjotve was a bad omen even on good days when Eivor had felt his blood run between his fingers and warm the length of his palms. He felt the final escaping breath over his cheek as Eivor drew his blade from unmoving flesh. Now lie before him, the husk for what was, his soul be damned to Hel.

And yet, knowing that satisfaction had been within his grasp, it didn't stop the curling tendrils of fear as he searched the darkened room with feverish eyes, desperate for a weapon to fend his worst foe off with. Gods be merciful, he pleaded, that this was not the man to greet him into the next life. Please let this not be how he dies, far from a battle stricken by the deceitful trickery of a bard along the countryside playing a wolf's game hiding amongst the unseeming flock.

Eivor squirmed as his eyes fell upon his father's axe by the bedside table. Just out of reach but if he was quick enough, maybe he could fend the man off. Kjotve didn't appear bothered by this as his eyes followed Eivor's gaze with a snort of amusement.

Before he could even make the lunge, he felt the cold iron of imprisonment bind him. The shackles of a thrall were a familiar fear that fell heavy upon his wrists and encircled his throat as gruff hands locked them in place. Eivor thrashed wildly to slip away from their hold to no avail. Defeated and far too weak to fight back, he was subjected to that mocking stare as Kjotve casually meandered closer and placed a hand against his jaw. Ever so gentle, disgustingly so, Eivor felt that sickening sense rising once again, a burning bile inching up his throat as his stomach clenched tightly. 

He could only utter a whimper of pain, an action that left his cheeks burning with shame as much as it did illness. A constant combatant of hot and cold warring over the terrain of his body further drained him of his will power to resist. Giving in and letting himself be slaughtered like his father was a temptation far too painful to bear and yet it was the most appealing option he had left.

He felt trapped, pinned with nowhere left to go as that agony twisted in his guts. He sucked in a sharp breath and writhed, feeling Kjotve's fingers slide down his jaw to card through his sweat soaked hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt the tears burn his vision and slide shamefully down his cheeks. The fingers that wiped them away were gentle, a tender and compassionate touch that made him feel like he were breaking apart beneath it all.

"Eivor, my love." A voice so familiar and soft brushing against his ear. He felt the touch of a cooler forehead against his. The smell of smoke and baked bread saturated the man's clothes. His stomach tightened painfully at the scent but his heart sung in relief as the painful chill of shackles fell away. His fingers grasped the blankets more fitfully as the large firm hand cupped the back of his head. "Whatever visions plague you, you are stronger than they are."

_'Visions?'_ Eivor thought. _'Yes, that is right.'_ He affirmed. This Kjotve was not real. This man, this murderer could not harm him. He saw to that the day he challenged him to battle. He sank his axe into Kjotve's chest and watched the life bleed out of him across the earth.

"Tarben." Eivor uttered, barely a whisper over a hoarse throat. It felt raw and scratchy, making his words too brittle to utter. He swallowed dryly and dared open his eyes once more, greeted with the worried furrow of brows on the face of his beloved baker.

"My love." Tarben greeted him with a breath of relief, drawing back comfortably to give Eivor space should he need it. His fingers interwoven with Eivor's as the vikingr squirmed slightly to get comfortable. He lacked the strength to move much, limbs heavy and drained as he let his head fall back and resigned himself to using the pillow for the tiny bit of support it offered to keep his eyes on Tarben.

The baker smiled wearily before a thought occurred to him. Turning to the bedside table, he retrieved a small bowl of water for Eivor to sip at, holding it up to his lips, Tarben helped him sit up enough to drink. One large hand supporting his shoulders as the vikingr took small measured sips, feeling the unpleasant sensation of his throat roughened by sickness. It burned uncomfortably going down but every little bit helped relieve the tightness in his guts.

"Thank you." Eivor mumbled clumsily, trying to work his tongue around syllables when he could barely string the words together in his mind. He heaved a heavy tired sigh and let his head rest back against the pillow as he stared up at the friendlier shadows that danced across his ceiling. The crackle of a warm fire and the sound of Dwolfg snoring at the foot of the bed eased the rapid racing of his heart. The earlier panic he felt melted away as he felt the solid presence of the baker, warmer and more real than Kjotve had been.

"How are you feeling?" Tarben asked gently, his thumb massaging over Eivor's battle scarred knuckles thoughtfully. The vikingr smiled, the weakest rise of his lips that he could muster in offering. He'd be jumping for joy if his body allowed it, happy to see his beloved again. To be home where he belongs. Passelande and Synin did a good job and he made the mental note to reward them extensively when he could walk again.

"As if I'd been on the wrong end of Mjolnir." He admitted. Tarben nodded briefly, a small bob of his head in understanding. There was a pause of quiet that settled between them and stretched for some time. Just existing as they were was still pleasant, even as sleep started to encroach upon the moment. He felt his eyelids growing heavy but he didn't wish to return to such a place, fearful of what phantoms of deceit his mind would conjure for him this time.

"I was scared." Eivor admitted, breaking the silence and drawing Tarben's gaze. He squeezed the vikingr's hand firmly as Eivor felt another errant tear slip from the corner of his eyes. He didn't blink it away quickly and he lacked the strength or care to wipe it clear as he continued with unsteady words.

"I was scared that I would never see you again." He pursed his lips in thought then. "I thought- that…" He struggled to fit his thoughts together, as words slipped his mind. It was hard and he was growing frustrated at himself for it but Tarben only smiled warmly at him in that way that made Eivor resign himself to defeat and let the baker take over.

"I know my love, but you were strong and you came back to me. Back to _us_." Tarben assured. "The gods have deemed it so."

"The gods have a funny way of showing their favor." Eivor answered with a huff.

Tarben chuckled. "They do indeed." There was a pause, a small smile as Tarben reached over to adjust the blankets and tuck them back around Eivor from their earlier disarray. "You were thrashing in your sleep as if some beast had pounced upon you." The baker supplied.

Eivor crooked his mouth and nodded. "You could say that. It was certainly some kind of beast." The questioning look directed his way was fleeting before Tarben returned his attention to Eivor's hand, fingers mingling in idle motions as he worked his thoughts around in his head.

"Would you like to talk about it?" The offer was thoughtful but Eivor hadn't the strength or the care to revisit such thoughts so he simply shook his head. A shuddering breath danced in his chest as he exhaled and relaxed back once more.

"You should get some more rest." Tarben added instead.

"I-" Eivor paused and shook the thought away. "Yeah." His eyes fell at the foot of his bed where he couldn't see Dwolfg but he could hear her heavy snores.

"Dwolfg, here girl." He whistled, her head perked quickly with a lazy swivel, appearing at the end of the bed where she peered over the frame. Eivor patted the blankets next to him. He should have maybe expected the wolf's sleeping spot of choice would be _on him_ as she stretched across his lap and laid her head on his chest. Tarben chuckled as Eivor squirmed a little to adjust until comfortable then dragged his hand up enough to scratch behind her ears and pet her neck.

"A fine companion love." Tarben prompted. "She will guard you as you rest."

"There is still room in bed for another." Eivor added, curling his fingers into Tarben's as he gave it a weak pull. "You are just as much my family as Dwolfg is."

The baker looked conflicted at first as he inspected the bed. A small smile spread in amusement as he nodded in agreement and laid down beside Eivor. Much like Dwolfg, he only laid on top of the blankets and pelts, but Eivor didn't mind as he adjusted to rest his head against Tarben's shoulder instead. The strong arm that wrapped around his shoulders and tucked him closer were a secure embrace he was certain would keep all manner of unpleasantness away. If only for a few hours at least before Valka returns with another bitter brew for him to choke down.


End file.
